


sink into me

by poetictragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Daddy Kink, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Rimming, use of terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't understand why Dean has to go out to get sex, when he’s got Sam.</p><p>(Sammy's sixteen.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sink into me

Sam pretends to be asleep when Dean finally gets home.

It’s half past three in the morning and Sam’s been laying in bed, staring at the wall, listening for the roar of the Impala to tell him that Dean was finally home; he gave up waiting some time after midnight, but his body wouldn’t allow him to fall asleep.

When Dean comes in, Sam’s nostrils are hit with a myriad of different smells. He can smell alcohol first and he wrinkles his nose, clenching his eyes shut as he tries to suppress a cough. The next thing Sam smells is cigarette smoke and, finally, the burning stench of cologne fills his nostrils. This makes him cough and Sam rolls over onto his back, a hand in front of his mouth, curled loosely into a fist.

The springs of the bed next to him squeak and Sam drops his hand down, splaying it on his chest, daring to turn his head and look at Dean. He doesn’t want to look at his brother, doesn’t want to see how disheveled and fucked-out he looks, but Sam can’t help it; he steals a glance and, in the headlights from an approaching car, he can see how red and swollen Dean’s lips are.

A snort escapes and he pushes himself up, sitting straight up in bed before leaning forward, turning the light on. Dean groans when the light flips on, grumbling something to the effect of  _‘fuck, Sammy, what are you doing?’_ and Sam shakes his head.

“What are  _you_  doing, Dean? You smell like cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne.” Sam tries to hide the hurt and anger from his voice, but it shakes and he cracks, threatening to give way to his emotions.

In the shitty motel lightning, he watches Dean turn away, a hand lifting to run through his already-mussed-up hair. Sam knows that he shouldn’t be mad — Dean is an adult and he can do whatever the fuck he wants, including fuck random strangers — but he can’t  _help it._  

Silence hangs in the air, occasionally broken by the sound of cars passing by or a couple down the hall screwing. It’s not the most comfortable silence, but Sam can’t bring himself to say anything to Dean, fearful he might scream, yell - or worse, cry.

After another moment, Dean shifts on the bed; the springs squeak slightly and he drops his hand, thumb brushing along a cut in his jeans before he speaks, voice broken, “Just having a good time, Sammy.” 

“A good time?” Sam’s voice rises slightly and he lets out a bark of laughter, loud and harsh, before he continues: “A good time with some random stranger you found in a bar, huh? Someone that paid for all your alcohol, maybe? Or maybe it was some guy that thought you were pretty, told you you had perfect cock sucking lips.” 

The last thing that comes from his mouth, Sam wishes he could take back. It’s not something he’s heard a man tell Dean before, it’s just something  _he_  has observed himself; it’s a myth that Sam can’t help but want to test for himself, no matter how hard he tries to tell himself that Dean is his  _brother_  - not to mention, sleeping him would be illegal.

Dean lifts his gaze and locks it on Sam, a frown on his face that tugs at Sam’s heartstrings and makes him want to take back everything. Blood rushes out of his face and Sam sighs, opening his mouth to apologize before Dean smiles, shaking his head, hand lifting to the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, guess so,” he mutters, scratching at the fine hairs on his neck, wetting his lips slowly, glossing them and making all of Sam’s anger and frustration fade away. Dean’s teeth scrape along his bottom lip and he chuckles lightly, sliding his hand down the side of his neck, blinking at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“For what?” Sam barely chokes the words out, staring at Dean’s hand.

Sighing heavily, Dean shrugs and scratches the side of his neck with his thumbnail, whispering, “For whatever it is m’supposed to be sorry for.”

Sam pushes the sheets off his legs and slides them over the edge of the bed, feet pressing flat against the carpet. He blinks at Dean, shaking his head slowly as he tries to process what, exactly, Dean should be apologizing for. Without a plan of action (or any plan or thought at all), Sam stands up and moves over, straddling Dean’s lap, his arms looping around the eldest’s neck.

“What are y’doing, Sammy?” Dean’s voice is soft and Sam shrugs.

“Just shut up and listen,” he mumbles, bending his legs a bit, pressing his toes against the bed frame, his weight on Dean’s thighs. “You shouldn’t apologize for anything, because there’s nothing you need to be sorry about. Sure, yeah - you leave me here all by myself, with no car or money for food, but I understand it. That’s why I’ve got my own stash of money in my bag, and I can hotwire a car if I need to…”

Dean chuckles as Sam talks, head lolling back, resting against the youngest’s hands. He’s looking up at Sam, wetting his lips again, his hands moving up, wrapping around either of Sam’s hips, holding him close. “That’s m’boy,” he mutters, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it’s nothing.

Blushing furiously, Sam swallows and forces a small smile, leaning back against Dean’s knees lightly, fingers moving against the back of his head. He takes a minute to just  _look_  at Dean, and plan his next move but all he wants to do is kiss his brother, but he doesn’t know  _how_.

“Why don’t you ever come to me — when you want sex?” Sam speaks quietly, his voice cracking and his fingertips shaking against the base of Dean’s skull, heart hammering in his chest. Swallowing, he keeps an eye on Dean, watching for any sign of distress or being disgusted, even a sign of not understanding.

“What - Sammy, I don’t—”

“You understand me perfectly,” Sam interrupts, chuckling brokenly as he shifts on Dean’s lap, swallowing harder than before. “You go out and fuck random guys nearly every night, when I’m right here. All you’ve got to do is tell me you want me, and I’m yours - you just, have to show me how to do it all…”

Dean stares at Sam, eyes unblinking and his lips parted slightly, shaking his head the smallest bit. The hands on Sam’s hips squeeze and relax, fingers going slack against the smooth cotton of Sam’s t-shirt. He can feel the sharp definition of Sam’s hipbone underneath and he swallows, wetting his lips again - once, twice, three times, until he hears Sam groan.

“Could you not do that?” Sam’s voice is hushed and Dean raises a brow, licking his lips again, catching the lower one between his teeth, tugging on it.

After releasing his lip, he brushes his thumb along Sam’s hipbone, replying: “Do what, Sammy?”

“ _That_  — fucking lick your lips all goddamn seductively. It makes this,” Sam motions to his chest, then to Dean’s, “fucking complicated and I want to kiss you. I just don’t. know. how.” Each word comes out punctuated with a small groan of frustration and Dean laughs quietly, leaning forward to nuzzle his jaw against Sam’s.

The friction and roughness of Dean’s stubble-laced jaw rubbing against  _his_  smooth skin makes Sam shiver, sending a tingle up his spine and causing him to move his hands down. He splays them between Dean’s shoulder blades and lets his eyes flutter shut, mouth popping open into a small ‘o’. 

“Won’t do it again, Sammy,” Dean breathes as he pulls back, swiping his lips against Sam’s, grinning against his open mouth. “You want me to teach you how to kiss, hmm?”

Sam’s head is swimming and he swallows thickly, over and over, before nodding his head a fraction of an inch, listening to Dean laugh. The noise is rough and broken, but it makes Sam shiver again, his fingertips curling around Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer as he blinks his eyes open.

“Gotta get on the bed then, baby boy.” This name isn’t something Sam’s ever heard before - not from Dean’s mouth, anyway - and he shudders, muttering a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath. Dean laughs again and wraps his arms around Sam, shifting on the bed so he can lay the young man down on the mattress, settling between his legs.

The breath is knocked from Sam for a second and he gasps, fingernails digging into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. His legs wrap around Dean’s waist, the arch of one foot pressing against Dean’s thigh as he whispers, “Why’d - why’d you call me baby boy, Dean?”

“Did you not like it?” Dean frowns and props himself up, a hand resting on the bed on either side of Sam’s body, watching him shake his head violently back and forth. Chuckling, Dean mocks Sam’s actions and leans down, his lips barely skimming his brother’s, breath falling hot against them.

“I liked it,” Sam squeaks over, letting his heel drag down the curve of Dean’s leg, skin gliding against rough denim as he continues, “just surprised me - you don’t call me anything but Sam or Sammy…”

A smirk takes over Dean’s lips and he nods, tongue darting between his lips, the tip barely tracing Sam’s lower lip. The action causes him to shudder and press his hips against Dean’s, rolling them forward, making Dean groan against his lips. “Goddamn, Sammy,” he chuckles as he pulls back, wetting his own lips. “You aren’t impatient are ya?”

Shaking his head, Sam swallows and hooks his calve around Dean’s, leaving the other leg hooked around his waist. Dean makes a noise and nods his head as he leans down, catching Sam’s lips with his own, kissing him slowly. His lips barely work against Sam’s and Dean lets him get adjusted to it for a moment before lifting a hand, fisting it in Sam’s hair.

Sam’s hips roll forward again and he pulls Dean down against him, their bodies colliding roughly, causing moans (and one small whimper) to escape both their throats. Chuckling quietly, Dean parts his lips and drags his tongue along the outside of Sam’s mouth before prying it between  _his_  lips, working it open.

Once Sam’s lips are parted, Dean licks into his mouth slowly, the hand in Sam’s hair going down and around, cupping the back of his head as his tongue explores. He slots it against Sam’s before wrapping it around the youngest’s, sucking on it lightly before pulling away, listening to Sam whine.

“ _Dean._ ” His name comes out breathy and whiny and  _needy_  and Dean laughs quietly, moving his hands down, gripping Sam’s hips. He thumbs across Sam’s hipbone again, pushing his shirt up with the other hand as he watches the young man bite at his lower lip, hips canting forward.

“Call me daddy.” The words are out before Dean can think properly and he thinks Sam is going to laugh at him — he doesn’t. Instead, Sam stares at Dean with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, all the blood and colour rushing to it as he chews roughly.

After giving it a moment of consideration, Sam rolls his hips forward and whimpers out a quiet, “Daddy,” before sucking on his lower lip. Something goes off in Dean’s brain (and body) and he thrusts his hips forward, pressing them against Sam roughly, gasping.

When Sam hears Dean gasp, he lets his head fall back and he moans, grinding against his brother slowly, a mantra of ‘daddy’ and ‘fuck me, daddy’ falling from his lips. It’s fucked up and wrong -  _oh so wrong_  - but Dean can’t stop himself, wouldn’t stop himself even if he knew how. 

“That’s my good little boy,” Dean pants as he pushes Sam’s shirt up, shifting so he’s grinding his jean-clad cock against Sam’s ass. “Want me to fuck you, huh? Want my big cock in that tight little ass of yours, baby boy?” 

“You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, daddy.” Sam arches his back and moves his hands to Dean’s hair, carding both through the short, messy locks. He holds on tightly and tugs gently, whining Dean’s name, mixed with ‘daddy’ and ‘please’. 

Licking his lips, Dean pulls away and stands up, pushing Sam onto the bed. “You didn’t answer my question, baby boy,” he whispers, moving his hand over the front of Sam’s pajama bottoms, heel ghosting over Sam’s cock.

“Yes — yes, want your cock in me,  _please_ ,” Sam whines out in response, pushing his hips up until he feels Dean’s palm cupping him. He grinds a bit, reveling in the friction, and grabs the bed sheets, twisting them in his fingers, breath coming out in pants.

With a smirk, Dean coos out: “That’s my good boy.”

This makes Sam whimper and he opens his eyes, settling them on Dean; in the light, his brother looks even more gorgeous than before and Sam swallows thickly, hips canting forward, desperate for more friction - more of Dean and his touch.

And Dean doesn’t waste any time in getting Sam naked. He pulls his pajama bottoms off quickly, tossing them to the floor before leaning in, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sam’s thigh. The skin is smooth and like velvet, nothing like Dean has ever experienced, and he groans, nuzzling his cheek against it.

When Sam whines and shoves a hand into his hair again, Dean bites his thigh and lifts a hand, curling his fingers around the waistband of Sam’s boxers, tugging them down slowly. He pulls away briefly, despite Sam’s whimpers of protest, and pulls the fabric down all the way, letting it slide down Sam’s feet and onto the floor.

For the first time, Dean gets a look at Sam’s cock and moans, biting at his lower lip. It’s fully hard and curving up toward Sam’s stomach, laying heavily against it; Dean would guess it’s at least seven inches. Swallowing thickly, he drags a hand up Sam’s thigh, rough skin slotting against smooth until he reaches the kid’s hip.

Looking up at Sam, he smiles and mutters, “Do you want me to touch your cock, baby boy?”

“Please, daddy…” Sam’s words are breathless and he looks at Dean for a second before his eyes flutter shut, shielded by a crop of long eyelashes. Chuckling quietly, Dean nods and leans forward, brushing his cheek against the side of Sam’s cock, moving his hand toward the base, wrapping his thumb and forefinger around it.

A loud keening noise fills the air and Dean chuckles again before pulling his cheek away, licking his lips slowly as he looks up at Sam, watching his lips part slowly. Shuddering, Dean sinks to his knees in front of the bed and puts a hand on either of Sam’s hips, pulling him forward until his ass is hanging off the edge of the bed.

Dean hooks Sam’s legs over his shoulders and leans in, licking a stripe up his balls and over the base of his cock, dragging his tongue up until he reaches the head. He hears Sam moan and closes his eyes, taking everything in - the sound of Sam’s breathing, the  _taste_  of his cock and the way Sam’s knees are clenching his shoulders.

“You like that, baby?” Dean’s voice is rough, heady, and he breathes hot against the head of Sam’s cock, watching him squirm. His own cock is pressed tightly against the front of his jeans, probably sticking to his boxers, but Dean isn’t thinking about that right now; he isn’t thinking about anything but Sam and his cock.

“Yeah, love it,” Sam replies in a quiet voice, moaning after the words are out, his fingers twisting in Dean’s hair, pulling him closer, hips snapping forward. Shaking his head, Dean finally gets with the program and wraps his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, sucking softly. The skin is already sticky with precome and Dean traces the tip of his tongue against the slit, collecting it on his tongue before swallowing. 

The hand in his hair tugs harder and Dean drags his teeth along the head slowly, murmuring an apology before taking Sam deeper into his throat. Relaxing, he suppresses his gag reflex and feels the head of Sam’s cock hit the back of his throat, causing him to moan. 

“Daddy — fuck,  _Dean_.” Sam babbles incessantly and Dean chuckles, the noise muffled by the cock in his throat, and he starts sucking slowly, pulling off as he does. As he pulls off, Dean wraps a hand around the base of Sam’s cock and strokes up as he moves back, his hand going down as he moves forward.

Keeping up with this motion, Dean sucks harder than before and moves a hand down, cupping Sam’s balls, kneading them between his fingers slowly. He rubs the pad of his thumb over them as he pulls off, looking up at Sam with a grin. 

“Daddy wants to make his baby boy feel good - you want that, Sammy?” His voice is broken and shaky, but Dean doesn’t care; he watches Sam eagerly, the hand on his balls dropping down, fingertips teasing Sam’s entrance.

This pulls a quick (and loud) ‘yes daddy’ out of Sam and Dean chuckles quietly, nodding before placing a kiss to the base of Sam’s cock. He puts his hands on the backs of Sam’s thighs and pushes him onto the bed before standing up, hooking a hand underneath the kid’s knees. Bending Sam’s legs, Dean makes sure that his feet are firmly planted on the mattress before he falls to his knees once more.

Once he’s on the floor, Dean takes a look at the sight in front of him: Sam’s legs are spread, cock spit-shined and laying against his stomach, ass waiting for his cock, fingers — or his tongue. Licking his lips, Dean leans in and presses a kiss to Sam’s ass gently, moving his hand to grab either cheek, spreading it slowly.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Dean looks up and locks eyes with Sam for a second, watching him nod before ducking his head down again. He leans in close and presses the flat of his tongue against Sam’s entrance, licking up and down slowly, listening to Sam moan. The noise drowns Dean’s groan and he closes his eyes, lifting Sam’s hips in an effort to get a better angle.

Dragging his tongue up and down, Dean presses it against Sam’s entrance a little harder each time he goes down and smirks when Sam moans louder. He keeps giving Sam’s hole attention, wiggling the tip of his tongue against it, just barely pushing in, making him nearly scream.

“Shh,” Dean mumbles before going in again, licking Sam’s ass roughly, before moving up, tongue dragging along his balls and the underside of his cock. Kissing the head of Sam’s cock, Dean grins and moves his hands up the underside of his thighs, hooking them under his knees again.

“F-fuck me, d-d-daddy, please.” Sam’s entire body is shaking and Dean licks his lips, still tasting him on them, nodding slowly as he straightens up. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor, before working on his belt, fumbling with the belt buckle, half-moaning in triumph when it comes undone.

He takes a step back and undoes his jeans before slipping a hand into one of the pockets. When he pulls his hand back out, Dean’s holding a condom and a small bottle of lube, which he tosses onto the bed, before pushing his jeans off. After tossing them to the floor, he shucks his briefs off and lets them fall, before he leans over, pressing a kiss to Sam’s chest, gripping blindly for the lube.

The air is hot and heavy, filled with Sam’s gasps and constant ‘daddy’s and ‘please’s; Dean can smell them both in the air and he wishes he hadn’t gone out, wishes that he had stayed at home, with Sam. Pushing the guilt and the thoughts away, he grabs the lube and pops the top, pouring some onto his fingers before pressing them against Sam’s entrance.

“This is going to hurt, okay?” Sam nods in response and lifts his hips, pressing them back against Dean’s hand, wincing when he feels the tip of his finger slide in. “If it gets to be too much, tell me.” Again, Sam nods and fists his hands into the sheets, twisting the thin fabric between his fingers, feeling Dean’s finger slide into him.

It hurts and burns and Sam wants to tell Dean to stop but he can’t — he’s wanted this far too much for _way_  too long, and he can’t turn back now. Gritting his teeth, he takes deep breaths through his nose and whimpers loudly when Dean pulls his fingers out, shaking his head when the older mutters an apology.

“It’s — ahh, fuck — okay, D-daddy..” Even though he says it’s okay, Sam’s voice gives his emotions away and he rolls his head to the side, feeling a few tears stream down his face. He whimpers Dean’s name out and moves his hands from the bed to his brother’s shoulders, nails digging into it roughly.

“I can stop if you want, Sammy.” Dean frowns and barely pushes two fingers against Sam’s entrance, watching him shake his head, telling Dean that he’s fine and to give him a few seconds.

Obeying, Dean turns his head and kisses Sam’s wrist and forearm lightly, his fingertips dancing along his entrance, teasing him lightly. When Sam stops whimpering and starts pushing back against his fingers, Dean pushes them in slowly and swallows, breathing against Sam’s skin as he feels his muscles clench around the digits.

Eventually he gets into an easy rhythm and starts to separate his fingers slowly, kissing Sam’s wrist lightly, whispering soft things to him. Dean calls him baby boy and sweetheart and baby over and over in a mantra, his fingers working and out, working him open slowly.

“I’m ready,” Sam croaks out and Dean bites lightly at his skin, nodding a bit before pulling away, slipping his fingers out of Sam. He grabs the bottle of lube and the condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth, before removing the latex. Rolling it down over his cock, Dean bites his lower lip and watches Sam with half-lidded eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.

After the condom is on and snug, he pours lube onto his cock and strokes it in, before pressing the head against Sam’s entrance. Sam whimpers when Dean barely pushes in and arches his back, scratching his brother’s shoulders and arms, causing him to hiss loudly.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Dean breathes out as he pushes into Sam more, groaning at the tight heat and Sam’s muscles clenching around his length. When he bottoms out, Dean stays still for a moment and just barely rotates his hips as he pulls out halfway, before pushing back in.

They moan in unison and Dean swallows hard, arching his back slightly as Sam’s legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock brushes against Sam’s prostate and he cries out, his back arching off the mattress and the heel of his foot digging into Dean’s ass.

“My beautiful, gorgeous — ngh — baby boy.” The compliments roll off Dean’s tongue as he pulls out, the head of his cock buried inside Sam, before slamming in again, moving his hands to grip Sam’s hips. 

Sweat pours down Dean’s neck and shoulders, cascading down his back as he starts thrusting harder, hunching over Sam’s body. Each time he thrusts in, Dean feels Sam’s muscles tighten around him and he moans louder, calling Sam ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby’ like a goddamn prayer. 

“Daddy—?” Sam moans out as he rests his hands on Dean’s chest, fingertips digging into the sweat-slick skin. It takes Dean a moment to realize that Sam said something and he grunts, slamming his hips against the youngest’s ass.

He leans forward and kisses Sam’s jaw, nipping lightly at it, whispering breathlessly, “Yes, baby?” 

“Can I — fuck, ngh — can I touch myself?” The words sound so innocent coming from Sam’s mouth and Dean can’t help but snap his hips forward, his cock hitting Sam’s prostate again.

“Yeah, go ahead, Sammy — touch your cock for me, stroke it nice and slow.” The last few words come out as a growl as Dean straightens up and moves his hands to Sam’s thighs, spreading them and pinning them back against the bed. He starts to move his hips relentlessly now; fucking into Sam harder, their skin slapping together as sweat pours off their bodies.

Squirming and moaning underneath Dean, Sam moves a hand to his cock and tentatively wraps his fingers around the shaft, stroking up. The second he strokes down, Dean thrusts in harder and hits his prostate again, making everything behind his eyelids turn white, his entire body  _burning_  from the pain-pleasure. 

Dean’s fingers wrap tightly around Sam’s thighs and he squeezes them hard enough to bruise, causing them both to cry out — Sam from the pain, Dean from the feeling of Sam’s muscles clench, relax, and clench around his cock again. 

He knows he’s close; his entire body is shuddering, his balls are tightening and he’s losing his rhythm, fucking into Sam without a set pace. Dean’s hips snap against Sam’s ass roughly and he bottoms out again, staying in place for a moment before he pulls out, thrusting in harder than before.

Sam and Dean cry out as the same time — Sam strokes his cock tighter, thumbing across the head and squeezing the base, slipping his free hand down to his balls. He rolls them between his fingers, head thrown back and mouth open, gasping and panting, moaning Dean’s name out.

“Come for me, baby boy,” Dean manages to pant out as he moves both hands to Sam’s ass, cupping it roughly as he fucks him harder. It wasn’t his plan to fuck his little brother - at least not  _this_  hard - but Dean let a carnal side of him take over, and he couldn’t stop it.

He barely hears Sam whimper out a ‘okay,’ before his own orgasm hits him like a freight train. Dean’s entire body shudders, his fingers dig into Sam’s ass and his hips still, his breath coming in harsh pants. It’s probably the best orgasm Dean has ever had, but that is so far from his mind at this point, and he leans down, whimpering shakily as he kisses Sam’s stomach.

Swallowing thickly, Sam arches off the bed and strokes his cock harder, giving his balls a light squeeze before moaning ‘daddy’ out loud, his orgasm taking over. His hips sputter forward and he falls back against the bed, whining loudly when Dean’s nails dig into his ass.

As Dean comes down, he pulls back and out of Sam, stumbling backwards until he falls onto Sam’s bed, laughing roughly. He scrubs a hand down his face and looks at the sight in front of him: Sam laid spread-eagle on his bed, come covering his stomach, chest, a little on his chin and he laughs again, wetting his lips.

Sam drops his legs and props himself up onto an elbow just in time to watch Dean lick his lips, groaning as he falls back against the bed. “Dinn’t I tell you to stop that?” 

“Yeah, you did.” Dean’s voice is half-amused and he pulls the condom off before scooting back on Sam’s bed further and laying back. He rolls over onto his stomach, wincing when his cock slides against the mattress, and tosses the used condom into the wastebasket beside Sam’s bed.

“You don’t listen very well,” Sam replies in a flat voice, prompting Dean to chuckle again.

“Next time you can be my daddy and punish me, eh?” Chewing on his bottom lip, Dean gets up and grabs a pair of underwear - Sam’s - off the floor before cleaning him up. The kid winces and makes a few noises that probably  _would_  excite Dean, had he not just had two back-to-back fuck sessions — one so much hotter than the other.

Sitting up for a brief moment, Sam situates himself and lays on the bed, stretching his legs out, smiling lazily up at Dean. Shaking his head, Dean rolls his eyes and leans down, kissing the top of Sam’s hair, murmuring against it, “Are you happy now, Sammy?”

“Mmm-hmm, very.” Sam’s voice definitely  _does_  sound happy and Dean chuckles again, crawling over Sam to get to the other side of the bed. He lays behind his brother and wraps both arms around him, resting his chin in the crook of Sam’s neck, breathing slowly.

Neither of them say anything, both fearful that it may ruin the perfect after-sex stillness. The truth is, Dean doesn’t know what to say and Sam doesn’t want to say anything, even though he’s got a million and one things on his mind. He’s afraid that, if he says anything, it will make Dean regret what they did, and he doesn’t want that.

“Night Sasquatch,” Dean mumbles against Sam’s neck, kissing it lightly.

“Night, D,” Sam replies quietly as he leans over, shutting the light off, before wrapping a hand around Dean’s, resting them on his chest, over his heart.

For the first time in weeks, Sam falls asleep without worrying about Dean or wondering what time he’s going to get home. It’s the first time in  _years_  that he’s fallen asleep in Dean’s arms, and he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

And he doesn’t even care that Dean still reeks, not really.


End file.
